


grief is not a sign of weakness (it is the price of love)

by greyskieslatenights, nokchaa



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, choosing not to warn due to spoilers, please be aware!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyskieslatenights/pseuds/greyskieslatenights, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nokchaa/pseuds/nokchaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junhoe's waiting for someone who's never coming back.</p><p>(In which he copes, and finds solace in an unlikely place.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	grief is not a sign of weakness (it is the price of love)

It’s been a week.

Or a month.

Or more.

To be honest, it could have just been a day. Junhoe doesn’t even know anymore. He’s stopped trying to keep track of everything,

At the very least, though, Junhoe remembers facts.

Fact: his name is Koo Junhoe, born on the 31st of March, 1997.

Fact: he has been lying in this bed for some indeterminate amount of time.

Fact: it has been far too long since Junhoe’s last eaten.

Fact: there’s no one next to him, arm slung over his waist and face next to Junhoe’s like there should be.

Fact: Junhoe thinks that what he’s feeling is something akin to heartbreak, but he’s never felt it before, so he doesn’t really know.

Fact: Jinhwan is dead.

Fact: Jinhwan has been dead, will always be dead, and is not coming back.

Junhoe blinks up at the ceiling, stretching up his arms and staring at the ring on his finger. There is a matching one on Jeju Island, locked up in a vault with a glass front and a portrait of someone twenty-odd years too young.

(He'd been the one to put it in that vault. He remembers gripping the ring between his fingers, so tightly that the metal dug into his skin. He remembers tripping forward towards Jinhwan’s mother with bleary eyes, holding the ring out to her and begging so desperately to let it rest with Jinhwan’s ashes. _A friendship ring_ , he'd choked out, lying through his teeth. _A friendship ring Jinhwan-hyung bought for me on my last birthday, it means so much to me_ please - )

Junhoe stares blankly at the clock hanging on the wall. It’s seven. In the morning, in the evening, Junhoe doesn't know anymore.

 _Seven_ , he thinks.

Seven is Hanbin and Jinhwan and Bobby and Yunhyeong and Donghyuk and Junhoe and Chanwoo.

 _Seven_ , Junhoe thinks again.

The clock seems to be mocking him.

Seven is not what they are anymore.

Now they are six, just like they used to be. Junhoe remembers when all he wanted was for them to just be six. He wishes he could take it all back.

He picks up his phone from beside him and checks the date - it has been a month, actually. He stares at his phone, even though there’s nothing he wants to check - he just wants to look at his lock screen, still a photo of the two of them, when everything was still okay and they thought nothing could ever hurt them.

(How foolish they were. Young. They thought they could take on the world, thought they were indestructible. It’s amazing, that although the human mind can take so much, the body fails so easily when confronted with a million varieties of things.)

Junhoe brushes his thumb over Jinhwan’s smile. It's not the smile Jinhwan wears on stage or in front of the cameras, the one that's too thought out, too calculated to be considered a real smile. The smile Jinhwan wears when he knows he's being watched is just enough to cause his eyes to crinkle slightly at the edges, but it’s never pulled high enough to reveal his teeth.

This smile, though, this smile that will forever be frozen on Junhoe’s wallpaper - this smile is different.

They were in Japan, on tour. Osaka, to be precise. They'd gotten in a day early from Tokyo, and had been allowed some free time to head out to Dotonburi to walk and shop around. Of course a film crew was following them, trying to get some footage of them to include in some video or DVD or another, but Junhoe remembers Jinhwan putting a hand on his shoulder, then stretching up on his tiptoes to whisper into Junhoe’s ear.

_“Hey, you think we can lose them?”_

And before Junhoe even had the time to stutter out a reply, Jinhwan had slipped his hand into Junhoe’s and tugged, and then they were running - running away from the members, from the crew, from the _stupid fucking cameras_ that would never leave them alone. Jinhwan’s hair - dark brown at that time - was flying in the wind in a way that would make their stylists sigh in exasperation, his eyes were youthful and bright and his smile - his smile was wide and free, and Junhoe’s heart had skipped a beat.

Then they had spent a good half hour wondering around alone, giggling to themselves and picking out funny-looking things like two best friends who knew nothing besides living in the moment, instead of two superstars from South Korea who were forced to grow up too fast, too soon.

Eventually Hanbin had found them, and his mouth was pressed into a hard line, eyes burning like they always did when he was angry. Usually Jinhwan would be the one to quiet everyone down and send Hanbin a worried look, try to get him to calm down, but Junhoe remembers him smiling - lips twitching as he tried but failed to suppress the grin that was threatening to stretch across his face. Hanbin had opened his mouth, ready to unleash an angry tirade, but Jinhwan had pulled Junhoe’s phone from his back pocket and handed it to Hanbin, asking him to help them take a picture instead.

Junhoe and Jinhwan hadn't bothered trying to hide their laughter as Hanbin’s internal conflict reflected so clearly on his face, but as he (in fact, all of them, really) always did when Jinhwan asked him for something, he had let out a frustrated sigh and barked at them to _stop fucking laughing so I can take the damn picture_.

And that's how the picture on Junhoe’s lock screen came to be: Jinhwan had leaned against Junhoe’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world, arm winding around Junhoe’s waist because he couldn't exactly reach anywhere else. And Junhoe had looped his arm around Jinhwan’s shoulders, tucking the elder in closer, _closer_ , against his side, then Jinhwan had started laughing when the rest of the members were suddenly running up to them from behind Hanbin, yelling -

Hanbin had taken the photo.

And that night, with Chanwoo’s soft snores coming from the bed next to his in the small Osaka hotel room, Junhoe had stared at the photo in his camera roll, at Jinhwan’s exuberant smile and sparkling, crescent-shaped eyes, at the way he was looking down at Jinhwan, smile so fond and eyes so soft, and had swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat.

And Junhoe will never forget that night, because that was the first time he realized that _yeah_ , maybe all this time, he’d always been somewhat - maybe, most probably - irrevocably in love with Jinhwan.

(The next morning when he woke up to shut his alarm off, he was greeted by the sight of his new lock screen.)

*

A minute later, the door opens. This is normal.

“Junhoe, get the fuck up.”

This is not.

Junhoe leans over his bed just a little, to see who it is. It’s Bobby. Junhoe doesn’t hate the guy, contrary to popular belief, but there’s a list of people that he’d like to see right now, and Bobby’s definitely not on it.

(The only person on it will never come to visit.)

“Junhoe, it’s been a month. And I get it. You’re sad. We’re all sad. But you get out of bed once every three days and quite frankly, it’s kind of scary.”

“Go away,” Junhoe retorts. His voice lacks the punch it usually does, and his throat seems to be fighting against him.

“I will not go away,” Bobby says. “You think you’re the only one suffering here?”

Junhoe has time for this, but he really doesn’t. “Bobby--”

“You think you’re the only one that misses him? You think you’re so fucking special?”

“Shut up!” Junhoe yells, pushing himself up and ignoring the way his head spins when he does. “Shut up! You don’t know anything!”

Junhoe hears worried footsteps scurrying down the hall towards the bedroom, but he pays it no mind.

“ _I_ don’t know anything?” Bobby’s tone is hard, cold, bordering on mocking. Junhoe hates it. “Grow up, Junhoe. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re supposed to be a team, here. And we all miss Jinhwan-hyung. But you’ve been stuck in here having your own one-man pity party. You’re not the only one that was close to him. I’ve know him for a long time, even longer than you--”

It hurts just to hear Jinhwan’s name. “You think that makes _you_ special?” Junhoe screams. “What, an extra few months? How petty, _Jiwon_.”

“It’s long enough to make a difference. You think you were the only one who loved him?”

And that's it. That's it. Junhoe feels the anger burst out of him, in time with a crack down the middle of his heart. “None of you - _none of you ever loved him like I did!_ ”

Immediately, there's silence.

There are angry tears stinging in Junhoe’s eyes as the door opens and Yunhyeong and Donghyuk run in, Donghyuk holding Bobby back from throwing a punch to Junhoe’s face while Yunhyeong moves to stand between them, catching Junhoe’s fist easily in his hand.

“Junhoe, stop,” Yunhyeong says. It takes a while for Junhoe to remember that Yunhyeong’s the oldest now.

Junhoe’s breathing is ragged and he struggles to control it as he twists his arm out of Yunhyeong’s hold.

“Not even close,” Junhoe whispers, grabbing his phone and storming out.

He doesn’t even know where he’s going, only that he’s in and out of the lift and walking as fast as his legs will take him.

It’s too cold to be out in just a t-shirt and sweatpants, but Junhoe doesn’t care. Let him get sick.

The familiar view of the Han River park comes into view, and Junhoe walks to the fence by the river’s edge, staring into the deep blue as the wind blows through his hair. He wonders how deep the water is.

(He wonders if anyone would stop him if he just tried to jump in right now.)

Eventually, he turns back to sit at one of the park benches, taking out his phone again. He opens up his photo gallery and opens up his favorite folder, the one named _my love jinani._ He scrolls all the way to the top, and then works his way back to the end.

The first picture he has is a selca that Jinhwan forced him to take the first day they met. They look so young - messy black hair in unstyled mops, Jinhwan’s face still retaining the last bits of childhood baby fat, and Junhoe basically pre-puberty. Jinhwan was all smiles as he made a peace sign while Junhoe attempted to smile but ended up in one of his awkward half-smirks.

The next is one he took of Jinhwan after they had dance practice. Jinhwan was laughing and his hand covered half the camera lens, but he looked so happy and radiant. Alive.

He keeps going and going and going - laying in bed together out of the shower, after vocal practice, Jinhwan giving a kid one of his _bungeoppang_ , backstage before WIN performances, in Jeju on the beach, during the craziness that was Mix & Match, Jinhwan petting puppies, before debut, after debut, on the plane, on the streets in some random country, just _Jinhwan Jinhwan Jinhwan Jinhwan_ \--

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until a droplet of water falls on the screen of his phone, magnifying the pixels and distorting a picture of Jinhwan lying in bed with Junhoe, blankets wrapped around them both.

Junhoe sits like that for who knows how long, just staring down, until a jacket is draped over his shoulders. Junhoe can see blue jeans over red Converse sneakers. He already knows who it is.

“I was expecting Donghyuk.”

“Well,” Hanbin says, “he’s a little bit tied up at the moment, calming Bobby down.”

“Ah.”

Silence for a moment.

“If you’re here to talk about how you’ve know Jinhwan-hyung longer than I have, too, you can go fuck right off.” Junhoe and Hanbin both pretend that they didn’t hear his voice crack a little at the oldest’s name.

“I’m not.”

Hanbin sits down next to him, and they both stare out at the water. It’s silent. A little awkward, but nothing Junhoe isn’t used to.

“I know you guys were dating, in a relationship - whatever you want to call it.” Hanbin says quietly. He doesn’t look at Junhoe.

For perhaps the first time since Jinhwan’s death, Junhoe feels an emotion besides anger and all-encompassing pain.

“How--”

“You just need to know how to look,” Hanbin smiles a little sadly. “Jinhwan-hyung and I do - did - ” Hanbin blanches, and Junhoe chokes. “Talk a lot. And he talked about you a lot, and differently, too. And you were always so much happier when he was around you.”

Junhoe can’t disagree there. Despite the grueling years of training and hoping, always wondering if he would actually make it, the past years with Jinhwan have been the best ones of his life. He hasn’t even lived that long, yet, but he doesn’t think he’ll be this happy again for a long time, if ever.

“Yeah.”

They stare at the river again. Junhoe appreciates this much about Hanbin, at least - he doesn’t talk if he doesn’t think it’s necessary.

“He was everything to me,” Junhoe says quietly, half to himself and half to Hanbin. “I don’t know - I don’t know what I’ll do now.” He twists his ring, and he feels Hanbin’s eyes drawn to it. Hanbin was the only one who’d never asked why he and Jinhwan started wearing matching rings, come to think of it.

“You cope.” Hanbin is blunt, refusing to sugarcoat it. Junhoe kind of likes it better, this way.

“You cope, and you bottle it in, and then you cry, and you scream, and you break things, and you _cope_ ,” Hanbin’s voice is so, so bitter, so pained and angry, and it keeps cracking, and Junhoe knows Hanbin’s stopped talking with Junhoe in mind, now.

He's talking about himself.

(Sometimes it's easy for Junhoe to forget, since Jinhwan was _his_ boyfriend, but all of them had known that Hanbin had relied on Jinhwan a lot, his constant source of support and reliable hyung when being a leader felt like too much.)

But then he looks at Junhoe, and his voice softens. “You cope, but you don't have to do it alone.”

Junhoe scoffs, but it's a pathetic, watery sound with no bite to it at all. “Fuck,” Junhoe mutters, when the tears finally spill over. “How the fuck do you know - say these things?” Junhoe asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and shooting Hanbin an incredulous look.

“What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time? Playing with cats?”

“Don’t think I haven’t seen that Neko Atsume thing on your phone.”

Hanbin chuckles a little. “Okay, maybe. But seriously, Junhoe,” Hanbin says, giving him a serious look. Junhoe has never really cared for the age difference between himself and Hanbin, but in this moment, Hanbin really looks like a hyung. “It’ll be okay. Definitely not now, and maybe not for a long while… but it will be, someday.”

“I guess.” Junhoe’s not holding out for anything, but they say everything gets better with time.

“It’s cold. Let’s go back.” Hanbin gets to his feet, motioning for Junhoe to do the same. He stands, and realizes that he’d left the dorm in his slippers. He’s going to have to get new ones.

“You know you have to apologize to Bobby, right,” Hanbin says as they leave the park.

“Maybe.”

Hanbin rolls his eyes, but says nothing else.

Junhoe takes a step after Hanbin, then pauses. “How’d you know to find me here, anyway?” he asks.

“Just had a feeling.”

Then a soft breeze blows behind Junhoe, warmer than the cold winter air, caressing along the back of his neck and through his hair.

And Junhoe smiles, because call him crazy, but it reminds him of Jinhwan.

**Author's Note:**

> come scream with us at our livejournal comm [junhwantrash](http://junhwantrash.livejournal.com/).


End file.
